Silent Night
by Ney1990
Summary: A Christmas night at 221b Baker Street. It's a one shot - so nothing much to tell beforehand.


"Silent night… holy night…" _Oh for God's sake..._ he thought and rolled his eyes.

"John! Tell those carol singers to get lost immediately or I will pour ice water out of the window." He waited but there was no reaction coming from his blond doctor. "John!" he screamed again and got up his couch. He wrapped his grayish blue dressing gown closer around his body and growled deeply when the carol singers switched to _Jingle Bells._ The whole house was sparkling and Christmas decoration was all over the place. Why had he agreed to all of this? Three hundred sixty four days nobody cared. Nobody was interested in benevolence, graciousness and all the other good deeds and suddenly, Christmas.

He walked into the kitchen and frowned. Besides the small decoration lights in one of the flower pots it was all dark, and it was cold. Strange. There should be cookies and pies, and plum pudding. He frowned even more as he walked closer to the fridge. A huge yellow post it was attached to it…:

 _In case you forgot...again!_

He read the note and rolled his eyes. "Right…" he murmured to himself. John and Mary left very early in the morning to catch a flight to…? He shrugged. He couldn't care less. Mrs. Hudson on the other hand had left around noon to visit her son and grandchild in… Well somewhere outer London. So he was alone on Christmas. He grinned to himself, and thought about removing all the decorations and lights and maybe scare the carol singers away with the pistol he hid in his violin case. He had promised John never to use it on innocent people. Well of course he did not, it was not loaded... yet, and… well it was Christmas, wasn't it?

Back upstairs he pulled the violin case from under his armchair and startled. Another post it!

 _Don't you dare!_

Honestly, he was more than surprised. Most of the time John followed him like a loyal dog, but Sherlock tended to forget that his little doctor was indeed very clever. For a moment he smiled and lifted the violin out of the case. The wood was cold under his fingertips and he sighed. It was not him who placed the violin in the case. Either Mrs. Hudson or John had taken care of it. There was another note beneath the violin. The scribble different than the other two.

 _The Shortbread is on the jar over the fireplace_

He couldn't help but smile. The other day John was really upset about Sherlock complaining about the hypocrisy of Christmas so that he declared the "No Shortbread Policy for Sherlock". Ironically, John and Mrs. Hudson still decorated the whole house AND the outside for Christmas even though neither of them would be here for the holidays. He rolled his eyes, put the note in the pocket of his dressing gown and made his way to the fireplace. The fire was about to get out and only embers were fighting off the coldness of this unusual white winter. He poked it and threw some logs in it, and of course he caught himself a splinter. "Oh for…." he growled and sucked on the injured finger.

"We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas…."

 _Alright, that's enough!,_ he opened the window and leant into the cold. "If you are praising a silent night, then bloody hell, act like it!" he barked. Harsh wind blew into his face and snowflakes stung into his cheeks and eyes.

"A Merry Christmas to you, too, Mr. Holmes." replied a young man beneath his window.

His hat was askew, the scarf too long for his height and in so many colours, Sherlock did not even want to count them. "Sorry to bother your evening, Mr. Holmes." He kept smiling at him and tipped his head. "Come along, guys."

The young man took the hand of a small girl with fiery red hair and gently pulled her away and down the street. The other singers followed him silently while snowflakes danced around their bodies. Sherlock blinked against the cold and the carol singers were gone - probably around the corner, but still, it was odd.

He shook his head and remembered the shortbread over the fireplace. It should be a bit warm now - as if right out off the oven. He loved fresh shortbread.

Sherlock grinned to himself as he took the jar and threw himself in his armchair.. Couldn't be better now! He bit into the cookie and sighed. So silent, so peaceful, so what was wrong with this picture?!

While he chewed on one of the shortbread he took his violin and played a few tunes.

"Silent night…" he whispered to the crackling fire.

Something nagged in the back of his head and it drove him nuts - like something was missing. He put the violin back and ate another shortbread. Sherlock knew what was wrong. This feeling was not new to him. He was bored! So much!

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and he jumped up. "I swear if it is those carol singers again!" he cursed while going downstairs and opening the door quite too energetically. "Stop pestering me!" he barked.

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Sherlock."

He sounded exhausted and pushed himself past Sherlock through the door. He was even paler than usually, and Sherlock followed him instantly.

"What are you doing here? You were on your way to… Manchester."

"Cardiff"

"Whatever"

"Our flight was cancelled due to…"

Sherlock spun around and stared at her. Urgh. Mary.

"So we will stay here for the holidays."

"What?" he turned back to the doctor and stared at him.

Just when he could have had the best Christmas ever, by… well, not having it.

"Oh, so you got stuck, too?"

"Huh?"

Back in the door his housekeeper had appeared.

"Mrs. Hudson, good evening." John sighed and helped her with a suitcase as big as a Saint Bernard.

Mary walked further inside and took off her winter coat, while John helped the elderly woman with her belongings.

Sherlock closed the door and sighed deeply. It had been too good to be true.

"Gosh, it's freezing in here."

"It is not!" Sherlock stared at Mary and bit his tongue. She was with his doctor now. He had promised to behave.

"Did you forget the fireplace again?" John asked and lifted one eyebrow.

"No!" Sherlock showed him his hand. "See!"

The splinter was still in his finger and the skin was already a darkish red.

"I'm going to make some tea."

So British. To his delight, Mary had followed Mrs. Hudson to the rolled his eyes,and flinched when John examined his hand.

"Good news, Sherlock…"

"Oh, you are all leaving again? Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that."

John frowned and with skilled fingers he pulled the splinter out off his skin.

"You will survive." he murmured, ignoring Sherlock's Christmas… charm.

He wanted to say something to counter, but in this very second Christmas melodies were coming out of the kitchen.

"Oh no, I just got lost of the carol singers!"

"You did not pour water on them, right?"

"Of course not!"

"The pistol then?"

Sherlock opened his mouth, but again he was interrupted - the doorbell again.

"Are you expecting someone?" John asked genuinely curious.

"Sure, I just invited Jim for Christmas dinner!" he growled, turned on the heals and was about to go back upstairs again. What a nuisance!

"You did what?!" Mary asked before he could make half of the stairs.

He glanced at her in a moment of silence. _We are married now. So behave_!

It took all of Sherlock's self control to not snap at her. "i was kidding."

 _Obviously! You blond puppet!_ He rolled his eyes again when it rang again. "John, please?"

He sighed. He was exhausted.

John smiled softly and nodded. "Of course."

"Good evening, sorry to bother... " Lestrade looked at them all and arched a brow. "Merry Christmas?"

A second later Sherlock was back down the stairs. "Hush about that. Is there a case…?!"

"Sherlock Holmes!" Mrs Hudson came out of the kitchen carrying a tray full of mugs, cookies and a huge tea can. "Let him enter first! And for Chr… " she stopped and blinked for a moment. "Get dressed properly. It is Christmas after all!"

Usually she did not bother with his ticks, but.. oh yes the holidays. He growled, grabbed Lestrade's shoulder and pulled him inside. "Living room, tea,... I'm back in a minute!"

Lestrade blinked in utter confusion and looked over to John who shrugged while Sherlock was running upstairs in his room.

There he threw his dressing gown over the bed, the white t-shirt right next to it and the old sweatpants landed on the floor. Chills ran down his back when he opened his closet and got his black suit and white shirt. He was just closing the last button of the wrinkled shirt when there was a knock at his door.

"What now?"

John entered slowly and frowned. "Just wanted to warn you. Anderson and Molly just arrived, too."

"What?" he repeated himself. He hated that. "Why?"

"Seems something big. A Christmas case maybe?"

"Oh please, just because it's December 24th or 25th people call it Christmas this and that. I've never heard anybody say 'It's an Easter Case' or a 'Whitsun riddle'."

"Right…" John nodded and got a tie from Sherlock's chest of drawers.

Had he just agreed without further ado? Oh yes, because it's Christmas? He grinned for a moment.

John stepped closer to him and put the tie around Sherlock's neck.

"Really?"

"It'll distract Mrs. Hudson from the wrinkled shirt." he chuckled and looked up to Sherlock. "I know you planned differently, but…"

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Well, there is a case now… It could be worse?" he smiled for a moment and John grinned.

He knotted the tie and patted his chest. "There now. Let's get back downstairs to calm your curiosity."

Sherlock nodded and followed his doctor downstairs.

"Alright, gentleman…" he began as they entered the living room.

Rage flared as he spotted Anderson with his jar of shortbread. "Anderson!" he barked. The officer almost jumped out of the armchair. Sherlock was about to stomp over to him, but his doctor was faster.

He had grabbed Sherlock's elbow. "Don't worry. There are plenty more in the kitchen." he winked.

"But…?"

"Really, Sherlock, this is 221b Baker Street?"

"What?!"

"As long as there is a Sherlock at this address there will be shortbread."

John chuckled, Mrs. Hudson smiled broadly as she offered him a plate with...warm shortbread. Lestrade calmed the nervous Anderson and Mary and Molly snickered silently.

Something strange had happened.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Alright then. Why are you all here ruining my… silent night?!"

John laughed for a moment and turned away. "Sorry,.." He cleared his throat. "Proceed."

Lestrade sipped from his tea and retrieved an envelope from the inside of his jacket. Through the thin plastic wrap Sherlock could spot a big red sealing wax on the back of the envelope and a striking, oddly accurate handwriting on the front: _John H. Watson M.D._

Excitement tingled in the back of Sherlock's neck. He recognised this hand immediately.

"This arrived an hour ago at the department." Lestrade turned the envelope and Sherlock could take a closer look at the sealing wax. It had the form of a big red apple. The tingle got stronger and spread into his finger tips.

"We ran it through some tests, there is nothing.", Molly said in her mousey voice

Sherlock took the plastic bag from Lestrade and held it close to his face. "Of course, there is nothing." he murmured more to himself than to the others.

"So why the all the fuss?" Anderson murmured while munching the shortbread.

Sherlock took a deep breath and closed his eyes. _Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…_ breath out.

He shook his head. "Your incompetence surprises me every time a new."

Anderson opened his mouth to come back at Sherlock, but luckily for him, Lestrade hushed him.

"You don't recognise it, do you…?"

Before he could answer Sherlock had opened the plastic bag and took out the letter.

"Hey the…" Anderson began and Molly pushed his shoulder. Clever girl.

Sherlock's fingertips traced the apple sealing wax and the soft scent of oak wafted through the room.

"My dear friend, you should open it." Sherlock handed it over to John who looked at him confused. .

Not even questioning it, John took a deep breath and broke the sealing.

"Darling, you should be careful with that."

This woman was killing his nerves. "Molly already confirmed that it is safe, wo… Mary." He tried to smile sweetly. His cheeks started hurting.

John's wife glared at him like a gorgon, but he was immune to that. He couldn't care less what she thought. The doctor put the empty envelope next to one of the teacups and eyed the eggshell-coloured letter in his hands.

"What does he want?" growled Lestrade and paced slightly back and forth.

John blinked, then narrowed his eyes, cleared his throat. "My dear Doctor, I hope this letter arrives you well and in good health…"

Anderson burst in laughter. "Of course…"

Molly punched him again, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson glared at him angrily and Mary just kept watching her husband with utter worry. Sherlock growled deeply in his throat.

"I expect this letter to be read aloud…" John stopped a moment and his eyes grew big. "to Lestrade pacing back and forth…" he croaked and looked at the startled detective who had just stopped pacing. "...Anderson who likely will eat Sherlock's shortbread, the women of the household drinking peppermint tea. Oh, and of course dear Molly who has inspected this letter thoroughly before handing it to you." John looked up again, swallowed hard and turned to Sherlock. "To my dearest friend, Sherlock, I have not forgotten about you. I hope you wear your best suit to calm Mrs. Hudson's Christmas spirits, even though your shirt is all in wrinkles. I well know your attitude towards Christmas, it is so much like mine - however I did not scream after carol singers. No, I was not so benevolent to give them a warning. Anyways, that's for after the holidays. To all your supporting actors, Doctor and Mr. Holmes, I wish you an exciting Christmas."

John stopped and looked at Sherlock again. "Are you really grinning?!"

"Are you out of your mind?" Mary added to her husband's exclamation.

Sherlock blinked and tilted his head. He loved the tingling feeling of a case in his bones. Was it a case already? Did Jim kill some carol singers? When? Where? Should he thank him?

"Sherlock!"

He looked up and six pair of eyes stared at him.

"What?"

John gave him the letter and pointed at the bottom."P.S.: To S. You have been on the nice list this year. Expect my gift tomorrow. J."

He grinned even more.

"We should bring you all away. Security custody." Lestrade murmured and started pacing again.

"I will not spend Christmas in prison!" Mrs. Hudson explained and puffed a little.

Mary patted her arm and sighed. "How did he know?"

Sherlock laughed, shook his head and read the letter again, and again. He loved the structure of the handwriting, slightly tilting, not so much, but it was there. No smears nor corrections were made. Of course not. He squinted his eyes and held the letter inches before his eyes. The paper was a bit rough, the eggshell colour nagged him. Why wasn't it white as snow? He growled and frowned. The scent of oak. Why oak? He smacked and turned the paper. Trying to cover a poisonous scent..? No. He shook the paper and held it against the light. No watermark. It couldn't be just a sick joke, could it?

"You could all stay here." John suggested and looked over to Sherlock again.

"Whatever…" he was in his bubble of thoughts.

"We are in one place already, Lestrade, and the weather is too heavy anyways. Why not spend Christmas Eve all together, then?"

That went right through Sherlock's bubble. Was that his plan? To annoy him? He eyed the broken sealing wax. No. Jim was ruthless, malicious and as deadly as a viper, but not annoying. There had to be a reason!

Mrs. Hudson stood from her armchair and smiled. "That's a wonderful idea. I will prepare us some supper, and for tomorrow I get the turkey out of the freezer."

They had turkey in the freezer?

"Mrs. Hudson, please do not…" John started.

"Don't worry, we will help her to get Christmas ready for all of us." Mary interrupted and took Molly's hand as well.

The young woman smiled broadly. "Like real Christmas?"

"What's a fake Christmas?" Anderson rolled his eyes and his other shoulder was pushed by Lestrade.

"As far as I see it, I won't stand a chance against… the women of the household." he murmured and sipped on the already cold tea.

Sherlock stared at all of them in utter disbelief. They all went about to get the guestrooms ready, and make a few calls.

"What just happened?" he croaked and looked at the only one left in the living room.

"Well, I suppose you just became the host of a Christmas party." John grinned and patted his shoulder. "Strange, though."

"What?" Sherlock fell into his armchair and ruffled through his hair. This was a disaster. He wanted to go to the lab to analyse the letter even more.

"If the weather had been better, I would have received the letter at my return and we would be at the department right now. It seems odd to me that Jim build on something undependable as weather.

"Huh…" Sherlock eyed the letter again and nodded.

He was so focused on oak and eggshells that he basically forgot to see the things right in front of him. On the other hand, that's why he had his doctor.

"Probably killed and bribed to get you back here." Sherlock thought aloud.

John nodded and looked down the hallway where Lestrade just went from one room to the other. "I will tell him to check on Heathrow."

Sherlock waved a dismissive hand, and John was off. He grabbed his violin and started playing. Soft tunes resonated in the wooden body and Sherlock's nerves calmed. Oak and eggshell. A frown formed while he tried to get behind Jim's scheme. It was a riddle. And when Jim said "gift" should he be scared or excited? His doctor would definitely say scared, but Sherlock's brain worked differently. He loved riddles, especially from Jim. He would never tell John though.

It started to smell after soupe and roasted chicken. How did his housekeeper find chicken in an empty fridge? Sherlock got up to join the others in the dining room. It would not get better, if Mrs. Hudson got him herself. There was indeed some chicken on the table, a steaming soup and Christmas decoration all over the place - like she had planned it all along and not just built it out of nowhere.

"Mrs. Hudson this is just… amazing." Lestrade spoke his thought out loud.

"Thank you, and now, everybody, please have a seat." And they did.

John spoke some words and they started eating with some silent music in the background. Besides that, Sherlock enjoyed the meal.

Afterwards Lestrade and Anderson took care of the dishes, while Mrs. Hudson prepared fresh tea. It was almost ten in the evening, when the doorbell rang a third time.

"Whoever it is. It's too late for… everything." Sherlock grumbled and turned on his chair while John left. "Besides, everybody is already here!" he added with a scream.

Nothing. Sherlock got up and followed the doctor who met him in the hallway with a bobby. "What? Sorry, you did not get the invitation?"

"He just came from Heathrow." John explained and led the bobby in the living room.

And of course all the others followed. It was so crowded, Sherlock began breathing quickly.

John put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and whispered. "Easy…"

Sherlock took a deep breath and nodded.

"So what news do you bring us, Officer?" Lestrade gave him a steaming pot of tea.

"Nobody's dead as far as we could make out." He took a sip and sighed.

"Come on now. We want to get this done until New Year's Eve."

John squeezed Sherlock's shoulder and he took another deep breath. "Proceed."

The officer nodded over to a package which he had placed on the coffee table while Sherlock was muttering to John.

"There never was a flight to Cardiff scheduled this evening."

"What?" Mary and John spoke in one voice and looked at each other startled. "You bought the tickets…"she exclaimed. "There was this steward telling us…!" Her eyes became bigger with each word.

"I… of course I got to the counter and…" He stared at the package. "He did not…?!"

While John digested the fact, that he was schemed by Jim, Sherlock was all over the package. It was eggshell,... again. He shook it and frowned.

"What the hell are you doing? It could be a bomb!" Lestrade grabbed the package out of Sherlock's hand and stared at it in sheer horror.

"Nah,.." Sherlock to the package back. "if he wanted to kill us this… easily and messy. He would have done so earlier this evening."

"You say that like you could trust this monster!" Mary interrupted before Sherlock could proceed with the package.

"Uhm… " the officer cleared his throat."I… Well, the package was scanned by airport security. No wires, no thing."

Mary rolled her eyes and Sherlock opened the package in one swift movement. Anderson grabbed Molly's arm and pulled her behind the armchair. Mrs. Hudson gasped loudly and a scream got caught in Lestrade's throat. The only one who remained completely calm was John. He was even the first one who took a closer look into the package and retrieved a grayish Christmas cracker.

"You gotta be kidding me?!" Lestrade obviously found his voice again.

A small note with the same handwriting was attached to the cracker and Sherlock was even more excited. "I suppose you found me early." was written on one side and a small arrow on the bottom. Turing it revealed another message. "Do you dare?"

"Mhm…" He sniffed on the Christmas cracker, shook it and knocked on it.

"He is so sick…" whispered Mary and bit her bottom lip. "On Christmas…."

Sherlock arched one brow and offered one end of the cracker to John.

"Don't!" Mary was next to her husband in the blink of an eye. "What… what if…"

He did not listen, grabbed the offered half and pulled.

A loud pang echoed through the house, the smell of oak swirled into his nose and a small object fell on the floor.

The women screamed, the police men had ducked away and were now looking out of their hiding places.

"Are you completely out of your mind?!" screamed Mary and hit Sherlock and the chest. "You could have killed us all."

"John could you please…"He grabbed Mary's arms and shoved her off into the embrace of her husband.

He knelt down to the object and was taken by surprise.

"What is it?" Molly asked curiously and stepped closer.

"A white knight." Anderson answered for him.

"No." Sherlock murmured and suddenly everything made sense. "It's eggshell. How could I have been so stupid." He moaned in frustration.

"Here, this was in it, too…" Mrs. Hudson's hand was a bit shaky when she gave a small note to Sherlock. "It's not a bad joke, is it?" he chuckled dryly.

Sherlock unfolded the note and grinned like a little child on…. He grinned even more, before he grabbed his coat and was out of the door.

"Sherlock?!" Lestrade and John screamed after him, but he was already too far away.

"What?!"Lestrade was out of his mind as he picked up the note. "He went completely insane!"

John took a look at the note and sighed deeply.

"What?" Molly repeated the question. "What's written on the note?"

The blond doctor shook his head and cleared his throat.

 _The Game is on!_

 _J._


End file.
